


all around me circling like vultures

by bapplejack



Series: all we need is daylight [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, suicide ideation, what is proper characterization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:21:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9365759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bapplejack/pseuds/bapplejack
Summary: Every mistake, misstep, lapse in judgment--all of it Angela tallies, another mark on her soul she holds against herself. She bears it all, even as she breaks under the weight of her guilt.Where Angela traps herself in the darkness of her mind and Lena is a light.





	

**Author's Note:**

> u had tracer hurts, now u have mercy hurts for the set wooooo. this shit is all over the place. this fic = me wanting to flesh out the characters but also project my problems onto them loooool. it's more self-gratuitous bullshit.
> 
> uh so lots of sad stuff, this is very angsty, i didn't tag ptsd b/c that wasn't my express intent, but if ppl wanted to swing it that way they can. 
> 
> i write a snarky jaded mercy.

What good was a doctor consumed by the past?

It was one thing to learn from your mistakes and become better, it was another to be haunted by ghosts.

Especially since Angela was the one seeking them out.

Projected on the spread of screens before her were surveillance photos of three masked specters. Most of them were blurry and grainy, taken in bad lighting and angles--not at any fault of the security systems, which were no doubt state-of-the-art, but more telling of the infiltrators’ expertise in such matters. They liked to think themselves mysterious, and to the greater population, they were.

But to the remaining Overwatch operatives, their masks were non-existent. They all felt the connection, no matter how hard the three tried to hide.

Angela felt the connection even more personally, as well as the guilt.

Soldier: 76’s biotic field.

The mysterious sniper’s biotic rifle.

Reaper’s terrifying abilities and the drained corpses he left in his wake.

All byproducts of the nanobiology which _she_ spearheaded the efforts of. In fact, the healing field and rifle were Overwatch technology whose production she oversaw. Who even knew of their existence except for their own? Particularly the rifle, which was the only one of its kind. They’d manufactured a prototype, but this was during the latter end of Overwatch’s time, and the project was put on hold for more pressing matters.

Such as the war that was brewing amongst them and the ensuing conflict that killed Jack and Gabe--though none of them really believed they’d die so easily.

No bodies were found, after all.

Angela had no idea how Jack or Ana survived, probably through sheer will and stubbornness. She believed the same for Gabe, though in his case something went awry. While she didn’t know what exactly happened in that explosion, it was clear to her Reaper’s abilities were related to nanobiology. She’d intended for the technology to heal and improve people’s lives, but of course the opposite occurring was always a possibility--whatever can mend can also destroy.

Maybe it was folly to believe she could prevent the perversion of her studies. Maybe it was foolish to act a pacifist in the employment of a militaristic organization.

No. Not maybe.

It was absolutely foolish. Naively idealistic. Ignorant.

Angela’s elbows were propped on the desk as she rubbed the burning fatigue out of her eyes. Sleep was difficult when the guilt ate away at her like this; she hadn’t left the medbay in days. These episodes always began with constructive work; she was motivated to fix her mistakes, to do better. But inevitably her thoughts wandered. Doubts seeped into her mind-- _You cannot fix this. You always try so hard and continue to fail, why do you persist?_ \--and they broke open cracks for the painful memories to invade as she ruminated on the past.

On the people she’d been unable to save.

~~Their corpses were lifeless ragdolls and their blood on her hands. _God, they had families._ People they’d never see again, people who loved them, people who’d end up alone, like her. They’d suffer through the crippling pain of loneliness and grief and it was _her fault._~~

On the repercussions of her work at Overwatch and elsewhere. How they’d used her for their ends and she felt the ends justified the means so she obliged.

_But you are not blameless. Speaking against violence does not make you innocent. The sins of Overwatch are the same as your own._

It was easy to spiral downwards forever. She’d question crucial junctures in her life, like deciding to become a doctor because her parents died during the war.

It was bitter and amusing in the cruelest ways.

By being part of Overwatch, she’d incited just as many conflicts as she may have stopped.

 _May_ being the operative word there.

_If there were no conflicts, there’d be no people to heal. You’re simply creating work for yourself. Giving your life meaning and purpose and fulfillment. If others suffer, you thrive._

_Do you really want the fighting to stop?_

Angela squeezed her eyes shut and clamped hands over her ears even though the voice was not physical.

No, the biting remarks came from her heart, and her mind perpetuated them and drilled them into her consciousness as if they were unwavering truths of the world. And to her, they might as well be.

_How much of a difference have you really made?_

She scoffed bitterly at herself and looked up. On the other side of the room was the Valkyrie swift-response suit, always ready for deployment to help those in need. Right now, its presence seemed to mock her more than anything.

_An angel. What a joke._

For the record, the design had _not_ been her idea--she’d applied the science of nanobiology to their technology, and while she helped with the engineering, Torbjorn had been in charge for the bulk of it.

 

* * *

 

_It had been a busy week. There was always a lot to do at Overwatch, which Angela should be grateful for. It kept her occupied, and she learned from each experience._

_That being said, she also wanted to sleep for a week, but Torbjorn requested her presence. Apparently there was something he wanted to show her._

_When she stepped before the doors of his workshop, she made sure her expression didn’t give away any of her fatigue. Despite any frustrations or impediments, she worked to be the paragon of professionalism._

_Even if occasionally it was difficult to hold back sardonic remarks._

_The doors slid open, and Torbjorn was in the center of the room with some kind of suit propped up._

_“Ah, you’re here!” he greeted in that familiar friendly and gruff tone._

_“Hello,” Angela responded politely. “What is it you wanted to show me?”_

_Torbjorn gestured enthusiastically at the suit beside him. “I’d finished enough of the medic suit to show you the result.”_

_“Oh?” Her brow raised, interest piqued._

_“Well, you know there’s still some finishing touches and adjustments I’d like to make, but--” He shifted around some wires behind the suit, and a moment later it hummed to life._

_Angela thought it impressive for about a split-second before that gave way to exasperation._

_She was too tired for this, and though she resisted walking to the nearest wall and smacking her head against it, she sighed._

_“Isn’t this a little…” Angela gestured at the suit, trying to find a word that wasn’t as harsh as her original thought, “...Cheesy?”_

_“What? No! It’s good for morale! People will see an angel and be reinvigorated.”_

Or scared that they’ve died. _Not that she said that aloud._

_“I suppose,” Angela conceded, not fighting the point as much as she should’ve._

_She really wanted to go to sleep._

 

* * *

 

It’d taken a few missions to have her reluctance beaten to submission, but Angela always wondered how many thought she was some kind of arrogant egomaniac with a messiah complex, flying around with delusions of grandeur as she healed the souls of the unfortunate mortals.

She smiled wryly.

Why was she even here?

Angela didn’t need to be with Overwatch to help people; she’d been doing that just fine after the dissolution. With the organization back in her life, it brought back complicated feelings, and yet she didn’t ignore the recall.

Was it out of obligation? Guilt? Self-loathing?

Did she want closure? Is that why she was looking at these fuzzy photos? You were supposed to run away from the ghosts, not _towards_ them.

A part of Angela was envious of the dead.

She hated that.

To disappear from the world. To forget about the complexities of morality and humanity. To stop questioning herself. To stop the guilt eating away at her and the darkness and pain spilling from her heart like blood, as if she’d been gouged.

She’d tried. _She’d tried._ **_She’d tried so hard_** to do good within her position at Overwatch, but with each day she doubted more and more whether she had a positive impact.

And Angela was _tired_ of trying. Right now, she was convinced her efforts would only lead to more suffering.

She looked at the screens through blurry eyes and breathed deeply.

_I’m a terrible person for even thinking this._

Ana and Jack _died_ and had everything taken away from them, yet they still fought. They had no one else, but they continued forwards.

_I’m not that strong._

Angela’s morality was not as stalwart as she’d like to believe, and when introduced to the pressures of their world, it proved to be as fragile as glass.

 

* * *

 

_“No. I won’t do it.” Angela’s tone was firm and even, though she could barely contain the heat of anger growing in her chest._

_She was being briefed by a representative from the UN in a small, private office on base, and standing beside her was Jack. As their leader, he’d played plenty of politics and been trained to keep a straight face during meetings, but currently unease stirred in his eyes._

_Overwatch dealt with international threats, and as a result kept an open line of communication with the UN who directed their focus when need be. Now was such a time, as they decided they could no longer allow the rapidly growing criminal empire of the Shimada clan to continue on._

_Fortune smiled upon them as the youngest son of the head had been shunned and nearly killed by his own family; the UN sought to capitalize on this opportunity._

_They made him an offer: help Overwatch topple your family’s empire and you live._

_But it wasn’t as simple as that. They didn’t want him to just be healed, they wanted him to act as their weapon, their sword of justice against the Shimada clan._

_They were dangling his life in front of him so they could use him for their ends._

_It was manipulative._

_“You don’t have a choice.” The representative smiled condescendingly. “Please remember your rank only carries a certain amount of authority. This is out of your hands.”_

_“You can’t force me to do it.” Angela’s voice was frighteningly even._

_“You’d let a man die?”_

_“I won’t turn a dying man into a tool for your war.”_

_“He agreed to it.”_

_“He wasn’t given much of a choice.” More and more venom seeped into her words._

_The representative sighed, as if exasperated from talking to a belligerent child. “If you don’t follow orders, you’ll be terminated for insubordination. The materials of any research you’ve done would belong solely to Overwatch. While it’d be a shame to lose a doctor with such promise, you can be replaced. What I’m trying to say is, with or without you, the operation will continue. It’s up to you whether you want to make it easier or harder for yourself.”_

_Before Angela could retort, a coarse hand gently grasped hers. She glanced to the side to see Jack looking at her with a furrowed brow and worry. And while he said nothing, his message was loud and clear._

**_Stand down._ **

_Jack understood that sometimes you had to compromise your morals. He understood her position and her struggle. This was part of the game they played so that they could continue to help the world._

_Angela bit her lip and looked away._

 

* * *

 

 _At least Genji’s still alive._ Back then she’d repeated that thought over and over again to stave off the guilt with no success. It simply assimilated itself into her heart and made its home there; other feelings of self-loathing would join soon enough.

Some days the pit in her heart grew so heavy and dark that the pain was unbearable. Angela would sit there with her head in her hands and wait for it to pass.

It was like a black hole trying to turn her inside out, and if that ever happened everyone could see all the horrible doubts and thoughts she harbored. She would no longer be able to hide her contemptible self behind her mask, but unlike the ghosts she chased, there was no identity she held.

Angela didn’t know or understand where she stood.

She was just confused and broken.

“Angela?”

At the voice, she swiveled around in her chair and probably looked a little too surprised at Lena’s appearance.

“Hiya,” she greeted again, all chipper per usual. She was dressed simply in a training uniform consisting of a black t-shirt and pants. Slung over a shoulder was her chronal accelerator, and in her hands was a tray of food; set on top was a bottle of water and a mug of coffee.

“Good morning,” Angela answered automatically, her voice thick from the tears she’d been choking down.

“Ah, well technically it’s afternoon, but who’s keeping track? Besides Jesse.” Lena laughed at her silly joke. She set the accelerator on the floor and the tray on the desk before hopping up to sit on the surface.

It was probably the lack of sleep, but Angela was at a loss of what to do or say.

So she stared.

Angela traced the features of Lena’s face and glanced over her bright brown eyes and big smile; she couldn’t help but be enamored by… _her._ Everything about her--her personality and attitude, her appearances, her gestures...

“You hadn’t been coming to bed, and I didn’t want to bother you… that’s the only reason I didn’t visit sooner. I know you prefer to be left alone when you’re working, but I got worried.” Lena shrugged with a sheepish half-smile. “Is that okay?”

“Of course. You know you’re always welcome here,” Angela smiled, and hope it came off less tired and more sincere.

Lena grinned and reached for the sandwich that was set on the tray. “I bet you’ve forgotten to eat, so I brought food. It’s uh… There wasn’t much in the pantry; the walls were lined with peanut butter. So… hope you like peanut butter?” She offered the sliced half.

Angela took it and just looked at it. Her appetite was shot to pieces, so even though she needed to eat, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stomach anything.

“Not hungry?” Lena concluded, her tone understanding. “That’s okay. You can save it for later.” She stepped off the desk and kneeled in front of Angela, crossing her arms atop her lap and resting her head there. Instead of saying anything else, she simply grinned brightly.

Angela set the sandwich down; her other hand automatically moved to run fingers through Lena’s hair. While her heart was still heavy and she still felt sick with hopelessness, she appreciated not being alone.

“Hey,” Lena prompted softly.

“Hm?”

“I missed you,” she declared, beaming happily.

_God._

Lena was _so good._ So eager to help everyone, so optimistic about the future and doing the right thing. She didn’t waffle in her beliefs; she knew what she believed in.

Jack Morrison might’ve been the golden boy of Overwatch, but _Lena_ was the embodiment of everything that was just about the organization. She didn’t hesitate answering the recall and was the first to do so; she’d even already been out on the field.

And she’d been through so much for someone at her age--they all had, of course. The world’s best and brightest also happened to be a bunch of mismatched misfits--but no one had ever been through what Lena experienced. She managed to get through that on her own, and still her spirit burned as brightly as ever, if not even moreso.

Lena was a pillar of light in a troubled world.

Angela smiled shakily, not wanting to cry _now_ and worry her further. “I missed you too. Sorry I…”

Lena took her hands and gently kissed her fingers. “Don’t be sorry.” She looked up and smiled warmly. “Talk to me? You don’t have to. But you’re upset and I want to be here for you.”

Those were the words that did her in.

Angela half-laughed, half-sobbed. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was laughing at--maybe it was at herself and what a mess she was. Or maybe she was laughing at how easily Lena shared her positivity. Angela eyes squeezed shut, and she leaned forward, pressing her face into Lena’s hair.

“Oh, you know. Just one of those days.” Her flippant words came out as a strangled croak. “Not sure why I exist. Not sure what I believe in anymore.” She sucked in deep, shuddering breaths.

Lena didn’t say anything; she simply continued to listen.

“I don’t think I should’ve come back,” Angela whispered. “But I’m not sure I belong anywhere else.” She swallowed and paused, afraid to say the next two words. It wasn’t a reasonable fear, she knew Lena would listen and accept whatever she said--but she couldn’t trust her own perception of what was and wasn’t reasonable right now.

Even though she wanted to hold back the tears, every time she blinked droplets rolled down her cheeks.

Falling apart had not been on Angela’s to-do list today.

It took several moments of silence before she gathered the courage to murmur, “It hurts.”

Lena’s hands gently stroked her hair the entire time; she was a very tactile person, and Angela thought that was one of her many endearing qualities. Though she might be biased.

“Thank you for telling me all of that.” Lena pulled away to press a kiss to her forehead. She didn’t say anything else right away, instead taking a few moments to think.

Angela understood; there wasn’t anything she _could_ say, really. Nothing that would magically take away her grief and guilt. These were all things Lena knew. It comforted her to know that Lena tried so hard for her even if she was being difficult.

“Would it help if I stayed?”

Angela nodded.

“After everything that happened five years ago… after all the things you had to do for them, I’d get it if you didn’t come back. But… I’m glad you did.” Lena admitted quietly. She hesitated before continuing on, “I know it must feel lonely, feeling like you don’t have a place in the world. But I’ll do everything I can to make it less lonely.”

“Thank you,” Angela breathed shakily. Her arms wrapped around Lena tightly, as if doing so would drain the heartache. It didn’t, not completely.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way, if that’s okay.”

“Yes.”

Lena kissed her lightly, a brief gesture to reassure Angela of her affections and word.

There was no miracle cure for the darkness in her heart; there wasn’t a way to magically clear her mind of all doubts and self-loathing. Angela was certain she’d live with this for the rest of her life. There would be days of clear mind and focus, unhindered by past misdeeds, and days where she ripped herself apart thread by thread until there was nothing left.

It would never hurt less. It would always hurt the same and be as unbearable each and every time. It’d feel like she was at her limit, at her end--and maybe if she was alone, it would be.

Angela smiled and leaned forward to return the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> i know i intro'd lots of mercy's doubts and didn't solve them but i kind of did that intentionally, b/c i didn't want to write a depression that would get magically fixed by love. i was aiming for something that people irl go through, something that maybe readers can relate with.
> 
> but anyway, yeah! thanks for reading if yall got this far, you guys are great.
> 
> (i'm sorry tracer doesn't say many british english things i am an uncultured american and didn't want to fuck it up)


End file.
